


Bring on the Dancing Girls

by notenoughtogivebread



Series: Klaine Advent 2014 [12]
Category: Glee
Genre: Family, Future Fic, Multi, daddy!klaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-04-11 18:19:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4446734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notenoughtogivebread/pseuds/notenoughtogivebread
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Klaine Advent 2014: Burt Hummel never really was one to make a fuss. But he's learned to adjust--with the help of his son-in-law.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring on the Dancing Girls

Burt chuckled thinking of what the fates held in store for him the day he decided to marry Elizabeth Harris. He’d always been the low-key one of all his friends. Whenever he was excited about anything, no one could tell–except his own dad, and Elizabeth, it turned out. That should have been a sign right there.

No, his dad would be sitting in his chair by the big black and white TV, but if he came in keyed up because, like, the coach had praised him or that time he’d gotten a B in math junior year, his dad would take one look at him and call out, “Arlene, Bring on the dancing girls!”

What would the old man have made of Blaine Anderson? he wondered. Over the years, Burt had learned that Blaine could make a grand production of any occasion. He still laughed thinking about driving Kurt—his boy become man, trying so hard to do the right, RESPONSIBLE thing—to the spectacle that was that proposal. Bring on the dancing girls, indeed. And the marching band.

As he got to know his son-in-law better over the years, he came to see that Blaine grabbed onto joy the way he did because, in a different way than Kurt, he seemed determined to make the most of each day, to mine what joy he could out of them BECAUSE he knew how fleeting it was. Kurt’s fatalism came hard-earned, God knows. Burt sure did; he’d been there. The day Kurt stopped believing in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny was the day he stopped thinking his mom was coming back. But Burt learned that the charmer who held his son’s heart had his own wounds. When he learned that Blaine spent a spring alone, that the little scuffle that brought him to Dalton was more than some guys “beating the crap out of us,” that it led to weeks in a hospital bed in the den, no companions, not one of the kids he’d called friends coming to see how that boy who thrived on company was doing, well, Burt wanted to hit something. He always hugged B a little tighter when leaving after he learned that.

So he should have known the celebration of the twins’ arrival would be epic. When the first baby, a girl, named after Blaine’s maternal grandmother, was born, things had been pretty low key until they brought her home to Lima. When the church ladies at St. Rose’s learned that the little one, their darling Pamela’s only grandchild, was in town, an epic celebration was immediately in the works. And from the indulgent looks Kurt gave his husband, that had been the plan all along. Of course, with Blaine running all over town catering to their whims, Kurt was free to nest at home with the baby and Carole and Burt, and so really no one was complaining. More time alone with the curly-haired, bubbly Mary Grace was just what the doctor ordered.

And, despite the ladies’ wishes, it was a Blaine production, with music and dancing and singing—Pamela’s friends mainly made sure there was food to last for days. And there were more friends and family than there were people in Lima, Burt was sure of it. Carole and he slept almost a day straight through after that whirlwind.

So when Kurt pulled him aside one Christmas a few years later, choked up, to say that not only were they pregnant again, but that it looked like they were prepping for two, Burt tried to prepare. He had time: the twins were due in June—Geminis, Blaine said, as though all the planets had aligned just for the birth of their children. But it turned out nothing could have prepared him for this.

There was a running joke with the boys—they called the babies Hepburn and Tracy before they were born. They had called MG those names too, until Blaine had placed her in Pammy’s arms and she saw her own mother looking back, the grandmother Blaine had only met once, but who he had loved deeply all the same. He and Kurt had had one of those silent conversations over Pammy’s bowed head, and Mary Grace had her name.

He knew it didn’t matter, that MG was his granddaughter as totally as any child of Kurt’s would have been, but when the twins were born and he held the biggest twin, the girl, in his arms and saw his Lizzie looking back at him, he understood how Pammy felt that day. So the Naming Ceremony shouldn’t have thrown him, but it did. That son-in-law of his.

For a Blaine production, this one was sort of low key. The Anderson’s, Rachel and Jesse and Mercedes and Sam, some of their closest New York friends, some he knew like that Elliott and others a blur of names and faces, and MG’s entire playgroup with their parents. Blaine got them all assembled in the big room in the townhouse, and stood with Kurt, each holding a baby. Mary Grace was lined up with her friends, wriggling in anticipation for her contribution.

“Kurt and I—well, we aren’t having a big Baptism or even a Wish it was a Baptism party at St. Rose’s this time, because we really won’t be able to travel with these two until at least Christmas.”

“And we’ll have an epic party then,” Rachel and Pammy chimed in together, then winked at each other.

“So we decided, since you all came here for their birth, we’d have this Naming Ceremony take its place. So Tracy and Hepburn get their real names now, as Kurt and I and Mary Grace—“

“MG,” she piped up indignantly.

“Yes, your delightful big sister, we welcome you, our beloved friends, our family, to our house as we draw these little ones into the embrace of our love and our life. Okay, your turn, MG.”

And on cue, the preschoolers rampaged through _Happy Birthday to You, Dear Twins._ MG followed up with her own idea, _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star,_ and gave a thumbs up to Aunt Rachel as she finished her solo.

Then Kurt stepped forward, holding his new son. He looked long into his face, then turned to the group. “When MG was born, Blaine asked that we give her the name of a strong and loving woman so that she would be a model for our girl to follow. Through the years, it is hoped, family would tell her stories of the person whose name she shares so that Blaine’s lola could be a real presence in this family and especially to our daughter. Today we do the same for these new ones. Our little boy will be gifted with two names, one to prompt us to recall to him our quarterback, the uncle he won’t meet except in our stories, and the other to gift him with the best of friends to share life’s journey and struggles.” He turned and placed the little boy in Carole’s lap. “So, welcome to the world, Finn Samuel. May you be as loving and openhearted as the men you are named for.”

There were tears and applause all around, and someone, Mercedes maybe, got them singing _Beautiful Boy._ And in the commotion there was Kurt and Carole, embracing over the baby, tears mingling.

Then it was Blaine’s turn. And Burt really wasn’t ready for this. “This baby girl is perfect. And to guide her through her life, through the power of story and of song, of memory and meaning, we have chosen the names of two women whose love and support saw my Kurt into manhood.” He met Burt’s eyes. “You ready, Poppy?”

Well, you try listening to that and not tearing up. And here she came, the precious bundle. Blaine laid her carefully in her grandfather’s arms, and kissed the top of his father-in-law’s bent head as Burt stared into the oh so familiar eyes of this little girl. “Elizabeth Rachel, welcome. May you gift the world with the gentleness and ferocity of the women you’re named for.”

Rachel started the song, but there were too many tears in her voice, so she let Mercedes take over on _Isn’t She Lovely._ And cake was cut, and pictures were taken, and champagne and sparkling cider were shared all around, and the guests wandered out to watch the distant 4th of July fireworks.

Burt bundled up his granddaughter, handed her back to his son, cupping that beloved face and kissing him. Then he grabbed Blaine tight, whispering “You did good, kid,” before taking MG’s hand to join the crowd on the deck. Yes, the fates had led him on an unexpected journey, and the family he’d found was a little more given to spectacle than young Burt Hummel would have ever thought he’d find comfortable. But as he hoisted the little girl onto her grandfather Anderson’s shoulders and pulled a wet-eyed Carole close, he was damn grateful for that journey all the same.


End file.
